


Wish I May, Wish I Might

by papermoontrick (chrofeather)



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Decisions, Bad Future, Character Death, Gang Violence, Gen, Occult rituals, References to Drugs, Some weird shit, Time Travel, honestly though most of this stuff is just mentions or implications so it's pretty mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 05:47:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11075286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrofeather/pseuds/papermoontrick
Summary: When Seungri wished he was never born, he never expected to have to see the consequences of that wish...





	Wish I May, Wish I Might

Seungri sat with the little smooth stone clutched tightly in his hand, restlessly thumbing the grooves in its surface. It was cold outside and he wasn’t wearing a coat, but he was too upset to care at the moment. He leaned one shoulder against the cold concrete of the YG building behind him, half-wishing he could just disappear in its shadow. He was tired. Tired of working like a dog only to be criticized for every little thing he did wrong. Tired of feeling like the weak link in the band.

 

“It’s not fair,” he said quietly, and it came out as more of a whimper, his voice cracking on the last word. It wasn’t fair, really. He worked just as hard as his _hyungs_ ; just because he was the youngest didn’t mean he was lazy or untalented!

 

But they sure made him feel that way sometimes. He ran a thumb over the smooth, flat stone in his right hand, glancing down at its pale white surface, marbled with blue. “Sometimes I wish I’d never been born,” he muttered, turning the stone absently in his hand.

 

Seungri saw something flash out of the corner of his eye, and he sniffled and looked up suddenly, making sure there was no one around to see him moping on the back step of the YG building. For a moment he worried that someone was taking a photo, but upon further inspection, there was no one around, and no place they could be hiding. There were a few trashcans overturned around the alleyway, but not much else.

 

He glanced up briefly; had it been so gloomy and overcast when he came out here? It must have been so, since he’d only been outside for ten minutes or so. Seungri stood up and pocketed the stone, letting out a sigh. Now that he’d cooled off a bit, it was probably time to go back inside and apologize to Teddy and Jiyong. _I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at them_ , he thought guiltily. _They were just trying to help._ He knew that the two producers only gave criticism to help him improve, but damn if their words didn’t sting sometimes.

 

Seungri scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve one last time, hoping it wasn’t obvious that he’d been crying. “Now I’ve gotta fix this,” he mumbled to himself before trying the door.

 

When it wouldn’t budge, he stared at it in surprise. _What?_ He knew that door was unlocked when he came out here! Frowning, Seungri tried it again, but the door was firmly bolted shut from the inside. _Did someone really lock me out?_ He wondered irritably.

 

“Just great,” Seungri muttered, rolling his eyes. He would have to go around to the front entrance and go through the lobby. “Just what I need: a walk of shame through the whole damn building…”

 

As he exited the alley to come around to the building’s front, Seungri silently admitted that he may have deserved it. He did, after all, get into a lengthy verbal fight with Jiyong and producer Teddy for criticizing his vocals in the first round of recording for Big Bang’s new song. Certainly not his proudest moment.

 

When he came around the corner to face the front of the YG building, Seungri could only gape. The paint was peeling, the steps were cracked, and the logo on the front looked sun-bleached and weathered. The place looked like it had aged twenty years in fifteen minutes!

 

“W-what the hell…?” Seungri stared with wide eyes, unable to believe it. “What is this?” Confused and a little scared, he dashed up the steps and pushed past one of the smeared glass doors to enter the lobby. He headed straight for one of the elevators, ignoring the dinginess of the lobby—the lumpy chairs and chipped wooden tables, the dusty floors and flickering ceiling lights.

 

“Excuse me, sir,” the receptionist at the desk called out, breaking into Seungri’s mess of swirling thoughts.

 

“Huh?” He glanced up from where he was anxiously fiddling with his rings as he waited for the elevator.

 

The receptionist was frowning, her eyebrows slightly furrowed. “Excuse me, but who are you? If you’ve come for an audition, they aren’t till next week. If you’re here to see someone, you’ll have to check in.”

 

“What?” Seungri could barely believe what he was hearing. He stared at the woman, bewildered. “Eunsoo- _noona_ , it’s me! It’s Seungri! You know me!” Of course she knew him! Eunsoo had worked at YG since Seungri was just a trainee, and she knew all the members of Big Bang by name.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know that name,” Eunsoo said cautiously. “Please, sir, come over here and let me see if you have an appointment.”

 

“I’m supposed to be here recording today,” Seungri said as he walked over to the desk, trying to ignore the sick feeling of dread knotting in his stomach. “You know me, don’t you? Big Bang is recording up in the third floor studio…!” He was getting desperate now, unable to fathom why Eunsoo would suddenly not recognize him.

 

Eunsoo looked almost worried now, and she stared at Seungri for a long moment before turning back to her computer. “Name, please?”

 

“Uh, try looking for Lee Seunghyun,” he replied after a moment, his mouth suddenly dry, and he shoved his hands in his pockets.

 

Eunsoo’s fingers flitted expertly over the keyboard, but the expression on her face hardly changed as she scrolled through the results on her computer. “I’m sorry, Seunghyun- _ssi_ , there’s no one in our system with that name,” she said after a moment. “If you’d like to make an appointment with one of our recruiters, I can help you with that. Otherwise, auditions aren’t until next week.”

 

“But I—you don’t understand!” Seungri insisted, rifling through his pockets to find his phone or his wallet or _something_ with his name on it. “Lemme just find my ID or something…” But all his pockets were mysteriously empty. No wallet, phone, or ID. Even his keys were missing.

 

Eunsoo was starting to look quite worried, and her hand was edging towards the phone on her desk. It was clear from the look in her eyes that this was no joke; her confusion was real, and she somehow didn’t know him.

 

“Sorry, _noona_ ,” Seungri said abruptly, feeling embarrassed as he backed away from the desk. “I, uh… I’ll just go now.” He turned around and half jogged to the door, his chest uncomfortably tight with a nauseous mixture of confusion, anxiety, and fear.

 

A chilly gust of wind howled from the west, and Seungri’s skin prickled with gooseflesh as he descended the steps in front of the building. He hadn’t been wearing a jacket when he stormed out of the studio, and it seemed unlikely that he could go and get it now.

 

He sat down on the last step, unsure of what else to do, and put his head in his hands. “This isn’t happening,” he mumbled to himself. “This isn’t happening… It’s just a dream, or I drank too much, or I fell and hit my head…” Anything seemed more plausible than this bizarre reality in which somehow no one knew who he was and he apparently didn’t work for YG any more.

 

Suddenly he sat up straight. “Excuse me,” he said to the nearest woman walking by, reaching out to brush her sleeve. “Can you tell me what year it is?” As crazy as it seemed, he had to be sure.  
  
The woman blinked, looking vaguely confused. “Why, it’s 2015,” she said slowly, as if speaking to a child. “Are you alright? Are you lost?”

 

Seungri couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped him, feeling like at least part of the weight had left his shoulders. At least he hadn’t somehow traveled through time and gotten stuck somewhere in the past or the future. “I’m fine,” he assured the woman after a moment, waving her off. “Thank you,” he added hastily as she hurried away.

 

But still, it was only a small comfort. Something was very, very wrong. Suddenly deciding he couldn’t sit still anymore, Seungri got up and started walking, not quite sure where he was headed yet. As he slipped into the crowd of pedestrians moving through downtown Seoul, he pulled his shirtsleeves over his hands and tried not to shiver. The cold was bracing, though, and he hoped it would help clear his head.

 

Whatever this was, it wasn’t the Seoul he remembered. Everything was… different somehow. Not only did no one recognize him (even the people on the street didn’t seem to look twice at him), something felt off. Unfortunately, he was fairly certain he wasn’t dreaming at this point. And seeing as he was mysteriously missing his phone and wallet, he had no way of contacting anyone who could help him.

 

Seungri glanced around, his gaze traveling over the tall buildings and gigantic billboards flashing news and advertisements across their bright screens. At first glance, nothing seemed to be out of place. But Seungri knew better. He just needed more information.

 

_If I can catch the train that stops outside Gangnam, I can find the library_ , he decided after a moment, mentally plotting out the route. The library would be a good place to start. He could use the computer to find out what he needed to know, and then… well, one step at a time.

 

He let the momentum of the crowd guide him to the subway entrance, where he stopped to read the train schedule and the map. _Going to be tricky to get on the train without my metro pass_ , he inwardly grumbled. Maybe he’d have to walk to Gangnam after all.

 

Seungri sighed and turned away from the subway entrance, shoving his hands in his pockets again. Trying to fight his way back through the crowd was much more difficult than anticipated, so he peeled off from the flow of people to walk along the alleyways instead. There were homeless people camped intermittently outside the subway entrance, trying to squeeze themselves under an overhang to keep out of the wind, but Seungri barely saw them. He was too busy fretting about how he was going to call his mother or get into his apartment when his name had mysteriously disappeared from the records.

 

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he walked right into another person, the two of them colliding with an _oof._ “Watch it,” Seungri snapped, irritable. His nerves were frayed, and being polite was not high up on his list of priorities at the moment.

 

“I was going to tell you the same thing,” sniped an all-too-familiar voice, and Seungri did a double take, his heart leaping into his throat for a moment.

 

“Jiyong? _Hyung_ , is that you?”

 

Looking Jiyong up and down, Seungri almost didn't recognize him—dressed in shabby clothes and looking like he hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in days, he hardly looked like the same person Seungri had seen in the studio less than an hour ago. Jiyong’s black hair was shaggy and unkempt, mostly hidden under a worn-out hat, and his dark eyes were haunted. He looked thin and wary, his clothes hanging off his skinny frame in a way that was decidedly unhealthy.

Jiyong cocked an eyebrow, glancing warily at Seungri. “Who the hell are you? I know I’ve never seen you before.”

 

“What?!” Seungri squawked. He was getting really tired of this charade of people not knowing him. “What do you mean you’ve never seen me?! More importantly, what happened to you?!” He had so many questions, but his mind could barely process that this was real, let alone analyze it at the moment.

 

“An old fan, huh? Do me a favor and fuck off,” Jiyong said bitterly, stuffing his hands in his pockets and turning away. “I don’t know you, and you don’t know me.”

 

“Wait!” Seungri hurried to catch up with Jiyong as he was disappearing into an alley. “I don’t understand! _Hyung_ , please, you’ve gotta tell me what’s going on.” Finding someone he knew was somehow the opposite of what he had imagined it would be. His mind was racing with questions, but underneath it all was the sick feeling that this strange alternate reality was much worse than he knew…

 

Jiyong glared at him, and Seungri resisted the urge to shrink away. Jiyong had a hell of a death stare, even when dirty and ragged. “I already told you, kid, we’re not friends. Get the hell away from me.”

 

“Yes, we are,” Seungri insisted, almost pleading. “Or at least we used to be, somehow. I don’t know what’s happened but something is really wrong here. You remember Big Bang, don’t you?”

 

Jiyong snorted. “Of course I remember Big Bang,” he said with more than a hint of venom in his tone. “I’m sure you do, too. Ruined my life and all that. Thought the world had forgotten about me after all this time.”

 

Seungri’s eyes must have been huge, judging from the way Jiyong was looking at him. “Don’t act like this is news to you, kid,” Jiyong admonished. “What, you’ve been living overseas for the last few years or something?”

 

“Uh, yeah, something like that,” Seungri said after a moment.

 

Jiyong’s attention was suddenly drawn to something over Seungri’s shoulder, and his eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing again, and he took a step back. “Out of the way,” he ordered, and Seungri’s first instinct was to obey—there was no arguing with Jiyong when he took that tone.

 

Seungri wanted to ask questions but stepped aside all the same, turning with mild surprise to see three men standing at the mouth of the alley, arms crossed. They were similarly scruffy and ragged, but Seungri didn’t like the look in their eyes. For once he kept his mouth shut, watching Jiyong approach them with calculated swagger.

 

“What do you want, Jang?” Jiyong’s stare was cold but not aggressive, though Seungri thought with a flash of concern that he looked quite small compared to the three broad-shouldered men.

 

“Who’s this?” The leader’s eyes flicked to Seungri. “You his dealer?”

 

“I said, what do you want?” Jiyong repeated sharply. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were fierce. “I thought I told you to stay outta here. This is my corner.”

 

The man, Jang, grinned and showed a mouthful of crooked teeth. “Feisty today, aren’t we?” he chuckled. “We’re here for what you owe us.”

 

Jiyong picked at his fingernails for a moment, fingers twitching with the urge to bite his nails. It was a nervous habit, one Seungri’s keen eyes didn’t miss. “I don’t have it,” he said finally. “Give me another week. I’ll have it then.”

 

Jang’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what you said last week, you little shit,” he growled, shoving Jiyong’s shoulder hard enough to make him stumble back a step. “I need that cash now!”

 

Seungri was watching this whole exchange with wide eyes, almost unable to believe what he was hearing. What the hell was this, anyway? Jiyong was some kind of drug dealer? Who were these people?

 

“You know we can turn you in anytime, runt,” Jang threatened, grabbing Jiyong by the collar. “You’ve got no one on your side anymore. I bet your _second_ conviction wouldn’t even make any headlines.”

 

“Get off me,” Jiyong scowled, jerking away from the man’s hold. “I’m not going back to jail, asshole!”

 

Seungri’s jaw nearly dropped. _Back_ to jail!?

 

There was a tense moment of silence, and Jiyong’s eyes darted toward Seungri for a split second. “Run.” And then he was off like a shot, Seungri dashing after him a split second later with the three angry men hot on their trail.

 

“You can’t run forever!” Jang called out, and the beer bottle thrown by one of his men shattered against the brick wall less than a foot from Seungri’s head, and he cringed.

 

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Jiyong shouted without looking back, vaulting over a pile of discarded two by fours and rusted metal fencing, and Seungri yelped as the fencing caught the leg of his pants and ripped a slice across his calf. But there was no time to stop and examine it, so he just kept running as fast as he could to keep up with Jiyong, listening to the angry shouts of the men as they were caught up in the obstacle, feeling blood running down his ankle.

 

Several twists and turns and about two minutes of sprinting later, Jiyong finally slowed up and leaned against the wall of a dilapidated restaurant, breathing heavily. Seungri nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to stop, shaky with adrenaline and feeling his lungs ache with each breath of cold air.

 

“Don’t worry, we lost ‘em,” Jiyong assured him breathlessly. “They’re stupider than they look.”

 

Seungri glanced at him with an expression somewhere between confusion and anger, trying to catch his breath. “What… what the hell was that!?” he exclaimed. “Those thugs looked like they wanted to kill you!”

 

“Nah, they wouldn’t,” Jiyong replied a little too casually as he took off his cap and ran a hand through his greasy bangs. “I owe them some money and I don’t have it yet, so they’re just pissed off. I mean, they probably would’ve beat the shit outta me if you hadn’t been there to distract them, but I’d live.”

 

“ _Hyung_ , are you selling _drugs_?” Seungri asked, voice rising in a mix of anger and disbelief. “What the hell’s wrong with you?! This… you’re better than this!” He could barely believe it. This wasn’t how Jiyong’s life was supposed to be! Seungri couldn’t fathom how Jiyong had gone from talented idol to homeless junkie in the space of… well, he didn’t even know!

 

Jiyong’s glare was steely. “Don’t try to fucking lecture me about morals,” he snapped. “I did what I had to do, and I’m the one who has to live with it. And what’s with you being so familiar with me, huh?”

 

“I told you, I know you,” Seungri insisted. “We were in a band together! In Big Bang! Remember?”

 

Jiyong sneered at him. “I don’t know what kind of delusions you’re having, but I’m not stupid. Big Bang had four members, and I don't remember _you_ being one of them.”

 

“…what?” Those words hit Seungri like a punch to the gut. Only four members…? How… how could that be?

 

“If you were in the band, then you would know what happened to all of us,” Jiyong continued venomously. “Big Bang fell apart years ago. I haven’t seen any of the rest of them since. And good riddance to all of them. They did nothing but hold me back.”

 

Seungri could only gape at the explanation, almost unable to process the possibility that Jiyong could speak that way about his members, the people who had been his best friends. “I… I don’t believe that,” he croaked, feeling tears sting at his eyes despite himself. Jiyong had always had a sharp tongue, even to his friends, but Seungri had never had the full brunt of such venom directed toward him. “ _Hyung…_ You’d never say that about Big Bang… Never…”

 

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Jiyong snapped. “Big Bang was nothing but a mistake.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but there was something… sad in his expression, and he turned away, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Get lost, kid.”

 

He walked away, and Seungri watched him go, unable to find the words to call him back.

 

\--

 

Wandering down the last block of the shopping district, Seungri knew he had to be getting close. After the disastrous encounter with Jiyong, he had pushed away his hurt feelings and decided he had to find the rest of his members. Since Big Bang had apparently broken up years ago, Seungri hadn’t bothered with the news or entertainment companies and instead gone straight for the internet. He borrowed a stranger’s phone at a coffee shop and used it to look up Seunghyun’s address in the local listings. He then marked it on a map of downtown Seoul that he picked up at the train station, hoping to find his way to Seunghyun.

 

There were three Choi Seunghyuns listed in the registry, so Seungri had marked all three locations on the map and decided to visit them all until he found his _hyung._ He picked the closest one first and was on his way, though he grew steadily more worried as the buildings became older and more run-down. Seunghyun lived in a decrepit neighborhood like this…? It didn’t seem possible, not with Seunghyun’s very particular (and expensive) taste in art and furniture and whatnot.

 

Seungri glanced up warily, looking at the peeling paint and dirty windows of the complex in front of him. According to his information, Choi Seunghyun lived in unit 3G on the third floor. Seungri took a deep breath, folding up the map and stuffing it in his pocket. _Well, here’s hoping this is the right place… I think._

 

The lock on the entrance to the building was broken, so Seungri was able to slip inside without incident, cautiously examining the dimly lit stairwell before heading up. The stairs were old and creaked with each step he took, and Seungri took care to at least make an attempt at being quiet. Even though he hadn’t seen a single resident of the complex, something was telling him to keep a low profile.

 

On the third floor, Seungri approached the chipped wooden door labeled “3G” and glanced around before hesitantly reaching up to knock. There was no answer from inside on the first knock, and the resounding silence felt ominous for some reason.

 

“ _Hyung_?” Seungri called hesitantly through the door. “Seunghyun- _hyung,_ are you in there?”

 

No answer. After a moment Seungri decided to try the knob and found it unlocked, the door opening with a quiet creak. What he saw inside was… not what he expected, to say the least.

 

Seungri had to restrain a gasp, hand coming up to cover his mouth as he stared with wide eyes at the carnage of the apartment. The place was trashed, with items strewn everywhere amid shards of ceramic and broken glass. The windows were wide open, the drapes fluttering in the weak breeze whilst leaves piled up on the floor. Tables and chairs were overturned, and deep gouges were visible in the wood as well as in the furniture, the upholstery all but shredded. Sheets had been haphazardly thrown over the furniture at one point, but they were musty and dirty and now served only as nests for moths and rats.

 

Eerily, there were canvases and paints set up in the middle of the room, looking long abandoned like the rest of the furniture, but slightly less dusty. More recent. Someone had tossed a sheet over the canvas resting on the stand, keeping the painting hidden from view.

 

Hesitantly Seungri stepped into the apartment, wincing when shards of glass crunched under his footsteps. “Hello?” he called out, searching for any sign of life within the ruined apartment. The drapes fluttered again in the breeze, but otherwise there was only silence in response. “Seunghyun, are you here…?”

 

Seungri stepped over the overturned coffee table, avoiding the mangled picture frames and old newspapers scattered all over the floor. In the center of the living room, the canvas stood silently, almost an eerie invitation. After a moment’s hesitation Seungri approached it, reaching for the white sheet…

 

The sound of shattering glass erupted in the silence, and Seungri’s heart leapt into his throat as he nearly tripped over the overturned coffee table in sheer panic, letting out a cry of fright. The sound had come from somewhere down the hall, and the sound of heavy footsteps thudded into one of the other rooms. Seungri’s heart was pounding, and he fought the urge to run out of the apartment and never come back.

 

But he couldn’t leave yet. Those footsteps… they were frantic and somewhat ungainly, but they were distinctly _human._ Seungri swallowed hard. “ _Hyung?_ ” he called out, trying to keep his voice steady as he took slow, cautious steps toward the hallway. “Is that you…?”

 

The hallway was dark, but Seungri could make out that the walls were covered in writings, drawings of bizarre symbols and words. Some were in English, but Seungri didn’t bother trying to translate them, instead trying to pointedly ignore the claw marks that scored the floorboards. He stayed close to the wall, inching towards the room where he had heard the glass shatter. He couldn’t see anything from his current angle, but the door was covered in scratch marks, hanging crookedly from its hinges and creaking ominously.

 

Seungri paused just outside the door, pressing himself against the wall and trying to slow his pounding heart. All the signs he’d seen so far were pointing towards the logical course of _run like hell_ , but some part of Seungri refused to listen. He had to know if Seunghyun was here.

 

Steeling his nerves, Seungri took a deep breath before peering around the edge of the doorframe, hoping to see who—or what—might be waiting inside. The room was just as chaotic as the rest of the place, with papers and broken chairs strewn across the floor; it looked like it had been an office or a study at one time. The window was open as well, and in front of it stood a tall, broad-shouldered human figure, shoulders tense but utterly still.

 

Seungri’s eyes went wide as he recognized Seunghyun’s broad frame, and he immediately came out of his hiding place and stepped into the room. “ _Hyung_?” he tried quietly. He thought it might be a bad idea to spook Seunghyun in a situation like this, so he kept his posture non-threatening, his voice soft.

 

Seunghyun turned around with slow steps to face Seungri, who had to force himself to stand his ground when he saw the blood dripping from a myriad of cuts on Seunghyun’s hands and arms, more scarlet smears visible on his face and neck. He was surrounded by glittering shards of mirror glass on the floor, some of which were stained slick and red with blood. But the worst part was his eyes—wild, glinting with a light that Seungri found deeply unsettling. There was no recognition, no spark of familiarity, none of the gentle affection he was used to from Seunghyun.

 

“You…” Seunghyun finally spoke, his deep voice low and raspy. His eyes, bright and wild, were trained on Seungri with disturbing focus.

 

Seungri had never seen such a look on Seunghyun’s face, and if he were being honest, it terrified him. He was suddenly, uncomfortably reminded of how much smaller he was than Seunghyun, of how little effort it would take for Seunghyun to really, seriously hurt him. But Seunghyun wouldn’t do that… would he? The mad look in his eyes made Seungri wary.

 

“Seunghyun- _hyung_ , do you remember me?” Seungri asked slowly, softly. He forced himself to meet Seunghyun’s disturbingly hyperfocused gaze, silently pleading. “It’s me… It’s Seungri. You remember little Seunghyun, don’t you?”

 

For an interminable moment Seunghyun just stared at him, dark eyes wide and unblinking with an intensity that seemed to pierce Seungri’s very soul. “There’s nothing you can do,” he muttered, finally looking away. “Nothing that can be changed… The path is set, the way is shut…”

 

“What?” Seungri frowned, unsure if Seunghyun was even talking to him at this point. “ _Hyung_ , you’re not making any sense…”

 

“You’re too late,” Seunghyun said as he stared vaguely upwards at a corner in the ceiling. “The path is set. The way is shut.”

 

Seungri felt his stomach drop, despair twisting his gut. This wasn’t right! Seunghyun was acting like a madman! “ _Hyung,_ please stop it,” he begged, voice cracking with desperation. “You’re scaring me.”

 

“Not much time left,” murmured Seunghyun, like he hadn’t even heard Seungri. Examining the numerous cuts on his hand with a detached sort of fascination, it was as though he didn’t even feel them. “I tried but I failed and now there’s nothing left… He takes and takes and there is nothing left…”

 

Seungri had no idea what Seunghyun was talking about, but it was somehow unsettling. “Stop it!” he burst out, agitated and frustrated by the lack of answers. “Seunghyun, please… What’s happened to you?! Why did Big Bang break up? Why is Jiyong on the streets? Where are Daesung and Youngbae?!” He had so many questions, and it seemed no one could or would answer them.

 

Seunghyun just shouldered past Seungri like he wasn’t even there, heading for the living room with some sudden sense of purpose. Seungri was quick to follow despite Seunghyun’s apparent unwillingness to talk, ignoring the bloody handprint left on his shirt from Seunghyun’s push.

 

“ _Hyung_ , tell me you remember Big Bang,” Seungri tried, watching Seunghyun rifle through piles of trash and old newspapers, books, and broken picture frames in the living room. “You _loved_ Big Bang! You loved making music, and art, and performing, and doing all that with us! I don’t know what happened to all that, but I think you do.”

 

But it seemed that Seunghyun wasn’t even listening, single-mindedly focused on whatever he was looking for in the wreckage of the living room. Seungri sighed, frustrated. He didn’t know what else to do. Leaving Seunghyun to his… whatever, Seungri turned back to the canvas set up in the middle of the room, still covered by the white sheet. He considered it for a moment, feeling his skin prickle with something… foreboding. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, and Seungri glared at the thing, suddenly irritated with its ominous presence.

 

He reached over and yanked the sheet off the canvas in one fell swoop, determined to expose it as just another piece of ordinary junk, but what he saw underneath the sheet made his blood run cold. It was a painting… of _himself?_ Seungri’s mouth dropped open, unable to take his eyes off the thing. It was painted in muted grays and greens and blacks, with hurried brushstrokes that gave it a sense of haunting urgency. It was a painting of Seungri, alright, his own face staring back at him from against a backdrop of dreary grays and blues, as if it could be both nothing and everything. But the strangest thing about the painting were the eyes—they were disturbingly lifelike despite being painted in deep black, giving the painted Seungri an eerie, soulless look.

 

Seungri turned to find Seunghyun facing him, and he gasped in surprise, now thoroughly weirded out. “ _Hyung_ , what the hell is this?” he asked, genuinely a little afraid. “You say you don’t know me, so how did you paint this?”

 

Seunghyun’s gaze was intense, dark and serious. “I saw you,” he began quietly, fingers flexing around the object gripped tightly in his hand. Light glinted off the blade, and Seungri felt a chill go up his spine when he realized it was a knife. “When I tried to look through the veil and find the missing piece… It’s almost complete now.”

 

Seunghyun stepped towards Seungri, who had to force himself not to take a step back. He feared what might happen if he did. “What are you doing?” he croaked, throat feeling parched of a sudden.

 

Seunghyun was almost chest to chest with him now, his height a clear advantage as he looked down at Seungri with a strange light in his eyes. He brought the knife up to rest against Seungri’s cheek, and the younger let out a strangled sound that was swallowed up in Seunghyun’s looming silence.

 

“Please don't,” Seungri breathed, feeling the cold steel press ever so softly against his cheekbone. He didn’t break eye contact with Seunghyun—hoping, pleading for his friend to recognize him or snap out of the trance of madness he seemed to be caught up in.

 

“I have to finish it,” murmured Seunghyun, seeming to lose focus for a moment. “I have to.” His grip tightened on the hilt of the knife, and the sharpness started to bite into Seungri’s skin.

 

The sting spurred him into action, and in a split second Seungri’s instincts kicked in. He shoved away from Seunghyun, sending him tumbling backwards over the coffee table with a shout. The knife slipped and left a burning slice across Seungri’s cheek, but he barely felt it as adrenaline rushed through his veins, giving him the strength to turn and sprint out of the apartment as fast as he could, barely looking where he was going so long as it was away from there.

 

Seungri didn’t know where he was going, but at the moment he didn’t care, lungs burning as he sprinted around corners and across streets. He didn’t think Seunghyun had followed him, but his fight or flight instincts had kicked in hard, and the adrenaline rush was enough to push him to keep going. After what was likely only minutes but felt like hours, Seungri stumbled to a stop in front of an expanse of grassy property, panting hard. He leaned forward with his hands on his knees, feeling a stitch in his side twinge painfully with every breath. He had escaped (mostly) unharmed, but Seungri felt scared and sick in a way that even the adrenaline couldn’t drown out.

 

Seunghyun had tried to kill him… Well, not exactly, but the look in Seunghyun’s eyes was enough to convince Seungri that he might have wanted to. As it finally sunk in, the sobering reality hit Seungri like a slap in the face. Seunghyun didn’t know him. Either that, or he was too far gone in his own insanity to recognize Seungri. It didn’t matter which, Seungri realized, feeling the ache in his heart swell with a sharpness that made his throat tighten with the feeling that he was going to cry.

 

He took a deep, shaky breath and stood up straight, rubbing his eyes with the back of one hand. From the left, a gust of wind howled, sending leaves skittering over his feet, and Seungri looked up at the grassy expanse, realizing it wasn’t a park but a graveyard.

 

An old graveyard, by the looks of it. The fence was rusty and twisted, the gate just barely hanging onto its hinges. There were both traditional Korean family plots and the plain individual markers given to those who died with no family or were unidentified at their time of death, but all of them looked wind-worn and tired, the paths between the graves unkempt and grassy.

 

Seungri’s eyes caught movement in his peripherals, and he saw a lone figure kneeling near one of the small, plain stones, and he frowned, confused. Such markers were for those who had no family to mourn them, so who was visiting? He walked up the path to get a closer look, keeping quiet so he wouldn’t startle the man.

 

As he got closer, he heard the man’s voice speaking softly, and Seungri had to stop himself from making a sound, hand covering his mouth as he listened with wide eyes.

 

“I know it’s been a while,” Youngbae was saying softly, his eyes downcast as he sat on his knees in front of the grave. “But I haven’t forgotten you. I’ll never forget.” He placed a small bundle of flowers in front of the grave, the stems tied together with a Doraemon keychain.

 

Youngbae paused for a moment, swallowing hard. “I can’t believe it’s been four years…” he said in almost a whisper. He reached into his shirt and pulled out a small silver cross hanging on a chain, running his thumb over it and pressing it briefly to his lips.

 

“I always pray for you,” he continued quietly. “Wherever you are now… I hope it’s better than here was for you. It’s been a hard path since you left. Things are different now. I haven’t spoken to the others in years. They… went their own ways.”

 

Youngbae’s voice broke near the end, and he rubbed his eyes, sniffling. “I know this is a terrible thing to say, but… I’m glad you didn’t live to see what happened to them. To all of us.”

 

Seungri was only a few feet away from Youngbae, but he couldn’t see the name inscribed on the stone from this angle. He felt half-sick with dread, wondering who it was that Youngbae had come to mourn… He didn’t want to guess. Any name he could have pulled out was almost too painful to imagine.

 

“I hope you’re at peace,” Youngbae whispered, clutching the cross in his palm. “I’m so sorry, Daesung.” After a moment he stood up, letting the silver cross fall against his chest as he slid his hands into his pockets.

 

Seungri could only stare in utter shock as Youngbae walked away, both disbelieving and horrified as he looked toward the grave. He didn’t bother trying to call Youngbae back; it wouldn’t do either of them any good. Seungri knew he was nothing more than a stranger to Youngbae in this world. He dropped to his knees in front of the grave, his chest tight with emotion as he read the inscription over and over again, wishing it weren’t true.

 

The words stared back at him with silent, stony judgment.

 

_Kang Daesung_

_April 26, 1989 – October 10, 2011_

_Rest in Peace_

 

Seungri reached out with a shaking hand to trace the characters inscribed on the cold stone, chest heaving as he quietly sobbed. He couldn’t hold it back anymore, and tears streamed freely down his cheeks. Daesung… What could have happened to sweet, gentle Daesung? It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was gone, and with him all of Seungri’s fragile hope. Without Daesung, there was no Big Bang. And if the world around him was to be believed, there had been no Big Bang for a long time.

 

“I didn’t want this…” Seungri managed between hiccupping breaths, feeling small and lost and torn asunder by grief. “God, I never wanted this…” His hand fell away from Daesung’s gravestone, and he sat back on his heels, aching and hollow.

 

Whatever this world was, he didn’t like it. He wanted to go _home_. He wanted to go back to YG and apologize to Teddy and Jiyong for being an ass, wanted to finish recording their new song, wanted to go to dinner afterwards with his _hyungs_ and laugh about all the stupid stuff they’d fought about. He wanted everything to go back to the way it was. But he didn’t know how to make that happen, or if it was even possible. Not for the first time today, Seungri wondered, despairingly, what in the hell he was going to do now.

 

He heard footsteps approach quietly behind him, but Seungri didn’t pay them any mind, too caught up in his own thoughts and his quiet crying to really care. But when the stranger sat down next to him, Seungri glanced up in confusion.

 

He was vaguely surprised to see Jiyong sitting next to him in front of Daesung’s grave, though by this point he was pretty much numb to the shock factor. He hugged his knees to his chest and kept his eyes downcast, resting his chin on his knees. “…What are you doing here?”

 

Jiyong shrugged. “Sometimes I come to talk to Daesung,” he admitted quietly. “It helps, sometimes.”

 

Seungri said nothing, unable to find anything that seemed appropriate at the moment, so he just glanced at Jiyong with an expression that said it was okay for him to continue.

 

Jiyong seemed to get the hint, and he met Seungri’s gaze for the briefest of moments before looking off into the distance. “…I know he wouldn’t be proud of what I’ve done,” he continued. “Or what any of us have done. But I did what I had to.” He sighed, pulling his hat off and running a hand through his hair, still messy and unkempt. It was only then that Seungri got a good look at him, and he noticed for the first time how Jiyong’s lip was split and still bleeding sluggishly, dark bruises forming on the left side of his face.

 

“ _Hyung_ , did you get in a fight?” Seungri asked, frowning in concern.

 

“This? Ah, it’s nothing,” Jiyong said as he replaced the cap on his head, pulling the brim low. “Had to settle a score with those guys from earlier. You look like you’ve been in a bit of trouble, too.” His eyes lingered on the cut on Seungri’s cheek, the one made by Seunghyun’s knife.

 

Seungri blinked, fingers coming up to touch the wound and the trail of dried blood on his cheek. He’d all but forgotten about it in the wake of so many other things. “I guess you could say that,” he said with a hollow smile. “…things are so much different now.” His heart ached with the words.

 

Jiyong gave a small nod of assent. “Things are different when you’re not around for a while,” he agreed.

 

Seungri’s smile turned bitter. Jiyong didn’t know just how right he was. “I should have been there,” he whispered. “None of this should have happened…” And he had no idea how to fix any of it. As far as he knew, there _was_ no fixing it. Here he was, stuck in a world where he seemingly never existed. And yet his very presence contradicted that.

 

Jiyong sighed quietly. “Look, kid, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he began after a moment. “For all I know, you’re crazy and all this is just nonsense. But if it isn’t, then regretting all the things that led up to this point is useless. You can’t take back the choices you’ve made, or the things you’ve done in the past.” He reached out to pat Seungri on the shoulder, a comforting touch that drew the despairing Seungri out of his shell a bit.

 

Jiyong looked him in the eyes, and for a moment Seungri felt a flash of aching déjà vu at that look, so much like the Jiyong he knew—who knew him. “But what you can do,” Jiyong continued, “is make the future whatever you want it to be. Make it better than the past. Giving up won’t solve anything. And even when you get stuck, keep pushing forward. You’ve got nowhere to go but forward.”

 

For a few moments Seungri felt like crying again. Even when Seungri didn’t technically exist in this world, his leader was there to comfort and guide him, even unintentionally. It reminded him of how much he relied on Jiyong’s help, and in turn how much Jiyong had relied on him… In this strange alternate world, Big Bang had fallen apart without Seungri.

 

Without Seungri, there _was_ no Big Bang.

 

Seungri smiled through his tears and suddenly hugged Jiyong tightly, feeling another nostalgic ache in his heart. “Thanks, _hyung_ ,” he said when he finally pulled away. “I’m going to fix this, okay? I’m going to fix everything.” He didn’t yet know how, but he was going to figure it out. For all their sakes.

 

Seungri stood up suddenly, brushing dirt off his knees as he was suddenly struck with the need to be moving. “Sorry to leave so suddenly, _hyung_ , but I have to go,” he said hurriedly. His mind was racing, and he thought he just might have an idea. “I’m going to make sure all of this never happens. I promise.”

 

Jiyong just blinked at him, bewildered. “Alright,” was the only word he could get out before Seungri was dashing away like he was late for something important. “Good luck!”

 

Seungri waved over his shoulder in acknowledgment as he ran down the graveyard path and onto the sidewalk, running as fast as his legs would carry him towards downtown Seoul and the YG building. _I have to fix this,_ he thought as he turned another corner, ignoring the stares of other pedestrians as he sprinted past them. _I don't know how, but I have to! If I’m not there to be with the others in the band, then this future will come true!_

 

Seungri nearly tripped over his own feet as he jumped to the left at the last minute, narrowly avoiding bowling over an elderly couple. “Sorry!” he called over his shoulder, somewhat remorseful that he couldn’t stop and apologize, but there was no time!

 

Finally he was nearing his destination, and he paused for a few seconds to breathe, feeling sweat trickle down his back even in the cold. _Almost there_. If he could get back to where he started, maybe he could somehow travel back to his own timeline. Seungri happened to glance down at this point and barely stifled a scream. His feet were nearly transparent!

 

Horrified, Seungri examined himself with wide eyes and found that his hands were the same, and the translucent appearance was creeping further up his limbs with every second. “No, no, no!” he begged, suddenly terrified. Was he fading out of existence entirely? “No, not yet! I’m so close…!”

 

Seungri ran across the street without waiting for a walk sign, nearly getting hit by three separate cars, but he hardly cared. The strange translucent effect was halfway up his thighs by now, and his hands were all but incorporeal. He stood in front of the building and looked up at the crumbling logo, the worn façade and the run-down steps.

 

This had to work.

 

Seungri hurriedly ran to the back alley and to the door he had been sitting outside, and fished the little blue stone out of his pocket, clutching it in his nearly transparent hand. “Come on,” he pleaded breathlessly. “I-I wish this had never happened. I wish I was back home!”

 

Nothing. The stone fell through his now entirely translucent hand, and Seungri let out a cry as the blue stone bounced off the ground and skittered towards a storm drain. “No! No, no, no…!” He chased it uselessly, his fingers going right through the stone as it rolled further away. Seungri sank to his knees and whimpered in despair, watching his body fade further away with each passing second. It was too late.

 

Seungri buried his face in his hands and closed his eyes, not wanting to watch his body dissolve into nothing. “I wish I was back home…” he whispered, a last desperate plea before he ceased to exist entirely.

 

When a few seconds went by, the sounds of Seoul remaining suspiciously constant rather than fading away, Seungri dared to open his eyes again. He startled at the sight of his hands in front of him, miraculously solid and very much _real_ again. He let out a triumphant laugh, unable to hold it back. Did this mean… it worked?

 

Seungri turned and tried the door again, heart leaping into his throat when it opened easily. _It worked!_ Did this mean he was home again? Seungri had to be sure of it. He had to see his _hyungs._

 

He sprinted down the corridor and burst into the lobby, looking around for anyone he might know. But someone else beat him to it. Eunsoo the receptionist sat up in her chair, eyes wide. “Seungri-yah!”

 

Seungri could have kissed her. “Eunsoo- _noona_!” he exclaimed, overjoyed. “You know me!”

 

“Well of course I do!” Eunsoo said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, sounding both indignant and relieved. “We’ve been looking for you for hours!”

 

“What?” Seungri was confused by that, but movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned to see Seunghyun come in through the front doors, looking tired but very much _not_ crazy and _not_ obsessed with weird cultish rituals.

 

“ _Hyung!”_ Seungri laughed and all but jumped on Seunghyun, who staggered under Seungri’s weight as the younger latched onto him like a koala. “You’re okay!”

 

Bewildered, all Seunghyun could do was hold Seungri for a moment and stare. “Me? It’s _you_ we’ve been worried sick about!” he finally managed to get out. “Where have you been?”

 

“Seungri? _Maknae_ , is that you?” Jiyong suddenly came into the lobby, followed closely by Daesung and Youngbae, all of them looking worried.

 

Seungri felt a wave of relief wash over him just at the sight of his _hyungs_ , and he let out a choked laugh that was almost a sob. “ _Hyung!_ I’m so glad to see you,” he said as he ran and hugged Jiyong as tight as he could.

 

Jiyong had definitely not been expecting such a reaction, and for a moment he froze with a bewildered expression on his face, looking like he’d seen a ghost. When Seungri finally let go, Jiyong immediately looked him up and down. “Where the _hell_ have you been for the last four hours?!”

 

But his question went unanswered as Seungri babbled a stream of barely coherent words, trying to explain and apologize all at once. “I’m so sorry, _hyung_ , I was a complete ass earlier but I was frustrated and I needed a break so I left but now I’m back and god I’ve never been so glad to see you guys—“ He paused to take a deep breath. “—and it was really scary out there, I don’t even know what happened! I’m so glad Seunghyun’s not crazy and you’re not a drug dealer and Daesung is alive and—“

 

“Hey, hey, slow down,” Jiyong cut him off, exchanging confused glances with Youngbae and Daesung. He frowned, finally taking a closer look at the _maknae_. “Seungri-yah, what happened to your face?”

 

“Huh?” Seungri reached up to touch his cheek, once again having forgotten about the cut there. He gave a faint smile. “It’s nothing. I’m just… glad to be back.”


End file.
